Just Cause

by Susan Page Davis

  “More or less.”

  “What did you do in between?” Dan asked.

  “At first I just hid. I didn’t have any family to go to. But I needed an income, so I started looking for a job. The one I’d had before the trial wasn’t guaranteed, and afterward for some strange reason—I can’t imagine why—they told me they didn’t have a slot for me anymore. My lawyer tried to help me, but everywhere I went I hit a brick wall. I was overqualified for janitoring, had no skills for office work, and so on.”

  “You’re here on your own recognizance?”

  “Yes, that and my lawyer’s ironclad guarantee that whenever the court says jump I will head back to Maine without delay.”

  “Who knows you’re here?”

  “No one except the clerk of courts, my lawyer, and a police sergeant in Columbus, unless he’s put it in some kind of notice to other cops. I figured all the police out here would know about it when I got here.”

  Dan shook his head. “We hadn’t heard. But you had to check in with the police in Columbus, so it’s a matter of public record. Anyone in the state police department could access the record, but probably no one had a reason to. But think harder, Laurel. Doesn’t your lawyer have a secretary?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like we said before, there’s a paper trail. Do you have a probation officer?”

  “No, because I’m not on probation.”

  “I see. But that clerk of courts must work in an office with other people.”

  “I … suppose so.”

  “Laurel, you think only three people know where you are, but the truth is, there are probably hundreds of people in Maine and Ohio who have access to that information. Add to that the bumble factor and—”

  “Bumble factor?”

  “You know—how the well-meaning but inept person inadvertently lets private information slip.”

  “Ah.” She shrugged. “I suppose Jim’s secretary might tell her girlfriend over coffee.”

  “Right. And the clerk of courts, or one of his low-paid assistants, might pocket a bribe in exchange for a tiny, seemingly innocuous bit of data.”

  “Not Mr. Webster.”

  “How do you know?”

  Laurel sighed. She didn’t know. It was certainly possible that her whereabouts had leaked out.

  Dan put on the turn signal and drove up a long gravel driveway toward a gabled farmhouse.

  “How much did you tell them?” she asked.

  “Just the bare bones. I mentioned the burglaries and told Owen you need a safe place temporarily. I didn’t say anything about what brought you here.”

  “Thank you. I don’t deserve your help. I hope you don’t get in trouble for not reporting the latest incident.”

  He braked to a stop before the two-bay garage and turned toward her. “I hope so, too.”

  The garage door in front of them slid up, and he eased the pickup inside. A man who looked very much like Dan stood on the step between the garage and the house. He grinned at them and put his hand up to the switch.

  “Wait until the door is down,” Dan said.

  Laurel caught her breath. “You think we’ve been followed?”

  “No, but we have to be careful.”

  He took Laurel inside and introduced her to Owen and Marissa.

  “We’re thrilled to have you here,” Marissa said. Her shoulder-length blond hair was caught back with a barrette, and she wore jeans, a maternity top and sandals. She seemed sincere and solicitous, and Laurel liked her at once.

  “Thank you. I hate to put you out, but Dan insisted I couldn’t stay at the apartment any longer.”

  “I should think not,” Owen said. He took Laurel’s backpack from Dan and disappeared down a hallway.

  “He’s older,” Laurel whispered to Dan.

  “The eldest. Then me, David, Joe, and Becky.”

  Laurel filed that away to think about later.

  Marissa smiled at them. “I just put Patrick to bed. Would you like some coffee?”

  “I can’t stay long,” Dan replied. “I need to go in to the police station tonight and look over some records.”

  “Did you eat supper?” Marissa asked.

  Dan and Laurel looked at each other. Laurel decided she would let Dan be the one to tell his sister-in-law the truth.

  “No, we sort of got sidetracked,” he admitted.

  “Come on. Leftover stroganoff and salad.” Marissa brooked no arguments as she headed for the kitchen.

  Dan smiled with resignation. “I hope you like stroganoff.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” Laurel whispered. “She’s pregnant. What if—”

  “It’s fine.” He reached for her hand, and they went together to the kitchen. Marissa was already pulling plastic containers from the refrigerator.

  Owen came in behind them. “Patrick’s still awake. He wants to see Uncle Danny.”

  Dan grinned. “Do you mind?”

  “Go,” said Marissa. “He must have heard your voice.” As soon as Dan was out of the room, she fixed Laurel with a curious stare. “We know next to nothing. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

  Laurel felt a blush spreading over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. If it’s any inconvenience—”

  “Not a bit,” said Marissa. “We’re happy to help. But this is bizarre behavior on Dan’s part.”

  “How long have you been seeing Dan?” Owen asked.

  “I’m not. We’re just friends. That is ... well, we were going to go to church tomorrow, but I’m not sure Dan will let me now.”

  “He told me on the phone that you need to keep your head down,” Owen noted.

  “Yes, and it’s a little scary. Someone trashed my apartment yesterday, and today I had another intruder, and some things were stolen.”

  Marissa’s face was full of concern. “Anything valuable?”

  “Not really, just a blouse and … some ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?” Owen laughed. “Your burglar must have a sweet tooth.”

  “I guess so. We almost didn’t notice, but at the last minute I checked the refrigerator.”

  “That is so weird.” Marissa put a plate in the microwave.

  “What’s weird?” Dan asked from the doorway.

  “Laurel’s burglar helping himself to a snack.”

  Dan shrugged. “You just never know, do you?”

  “Can you get fingerprints off the refrigerator?” Owen asked.

  “I’m afraid the P.D. is so busy they don’t consider petty theft worth the time of our technicians.”

  “But it’s frightening, knowing someone came into your home like that,” Marissa said.

  Laurel bit her lip.

  “They tried to take prints after the first break-in,” Dan said, “but they didn’t get anywhere. I didn’t ask them to come again tonight. I decided we’d better get Laurel out, and now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have brought most of her things.”

  “I can help you tomorrow,” Owen offered.

  “Sit down. The food’s almost ready.” Marissa brought the plates over and set them on the table. Dan offered the blessing, and they began to eat.

  “This is wonderful,” Laurel told Marissa. She hadn’t done any real cooking in weeks, and the stroganoff tasted like a bit of home. She was a little nervous having people watch her eat, but Dan seemed at ease.

  Owen straddled a chair and said to Dan, “So, Laurel says she might have to miss church in the morning. What do you think?”

  Dan shrugged. “It’s important to keep her out of sight for a while.”

  “She could go to our church with us,” Marissa said. “She could wear some of my clothes and a big hat.”

  “Oh, that would make her inconspicuous,” Owen said with a chuckle.

  Dan leaned back. “What do you say, Laurel?”

  “I don’t know. I’d like to go, but if you think it’s dangerous …”

  “Here’s what I think.” Dan took a sip from his wat
er glass and set it down. “I’m going to go read the files we talked about. Unless I find something alarming, I’ll be back in the morning to pick you up. I think you’ll be safe at my church, and I’m pretty sure no one followed us here tonight.”

  Laurel smiled. “Then let’s go for it.”

  Dan stood up. “Sounds good. Now, if you all will excuse me, I need to hit the road.”

  He reached for Laurel’s hand and drew her with him toward the door to the garage. “If things settle down, we’ll get you back home Monday before you have to go to work,” he said softly. “If not, I’ll bring you anything else you need.”

  Another dart of anxiety hit her. “Do you think my car is all right in the parking space?”

  “I’ll ask the patrol sergeant to send a unit through Sherwood Apartments several times tonight. That may help.”

  She looked up into his eyes, and the enormity of it hit her. “Dan, why would anyone do this to me? Renee I can almost understand. She thought we had an agreement, although it was all one-sided. Now she’s angry that I didn’t follow through. But the rest of it—I don’t get it.”

  “Me either. Someone was looking for something before Renee found your place. Any way I rationalize it, that’s what I come up with. An unknown burglar broke in the first time and trashed your place, then Renee came and stole your blouse and left you the message.”

  Laurel shook her head. “Even if someone hates me, what good can come of going through my things? I don’t have anything.”

  “They dumped out your books and software,” he reminded her.

  “And my clothes and dishes. I guess I’m lucky they didn’t pour flour and cocoa all over the kitchen.”

  Dan’s brow furrowed. “Think hard about this, Laurel. Who would come all this way after you ... and why?”

  “I don’t know! But I’m scared. And I don’t want to bring trouble on your brother and his family.”

  “I know.”

  “If I can’t go home soon, I certainly can’t stay here and put them in danger. Imagine someone breaking into their home.”

  Dan sighed. “You’re right. We’ll figure out something else. In the meantime, pray hard.”

  “I will.” Laurel looked into his tender gray eyes. “Dan, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I’m in it now. Just be careful. We’ll talk tomorrow, after I read the files and have a better picture of your situation.”

  She nodded. When he could see the full picture, he would regret becoming involved, but for the time being here she was in his brother’s home. She prayed that these innocent bystanders wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire.

  Chapter 5

  Dan walked into the police station with his jacket slung over his shoulder.

  “Ryan! You on duty tonight?” The night patrol sergeant eyed his jeans and T-shirt in surprise.

  “No, I just came in to check on something. Thought I’d use the computer for a few minutes.”

  The sergeant nodded and Dan went to the duty room. A couple of other officers were huddled over their paperwork. Dan sat down and turned on a computer, sending up a heartfelt prayer.

  She wants me to do this, Lord. She wants me to look up the case and decide for myself what to do. All right, I will. Just give me wisdom, please.

  The local law enforcement database still had no information about Laurel. He logged on to the network that gave him access to records from other states. It took a while, but finally he found what he needed.

  He went after Renee Chapin’s file first. She had a string of convictions for theft, burglary, criminal trespass and assault. She’d spent several short stints in the Kennebec County jail, and a longer one that he figured overlapped Laurel’s incarceration. While there she’d racked up another assault charge and a count of trafficking contraband. Renee had been released in February. She’d had more than two months to find the woman she thought had reneged on her promise. Dan printed out her mug shot and studied it carefully.

  No use putting it off any longer. He entered the name Laurel Wilson Hatcher. The mug shots that came up on the screen hit him with terrible force. She looked so haggard, so scared. He wanted to turn it off.

  Laurel Wilson Hatcher, 26, arrested on first degree murder. Husband, Robert E. Hatcher, 27, found fatally shot on the stairs in their home in Oakland, Maine. One bullet to the chest, from his own nine-millimeter pistol. It was discovered lying at the foot of the stairs, a few smeared fingerprints on it. Some were the victim’s; at least one was Laurel’s.

  Dan’s heart went out to Laurel. She had walked in on that scene, found her husband lying dead in their home.

  He read every word of the police reports. No evidence of a break-in. Laurel was clearly the main suspect from the beginning, which he supposed made sense. Spouses were always the first suspects. She claimed she’d been out shopping all morning and then came home and discovered the body, but no one could corroborate her story.

  Motive? Her husband worked for his father, in the family’s construction firm. As a project supervisor, he earned a salary a cop would envy. Their house, a wedding gift from his parents, was a century-old Queen Anne. Bob drove a Corvette and was heavily insured. In all, Dan figured the widow ought to have come out a millionaire. Of course, the insurance company wouldn’t pay a death benefit to a person accused of murdering the insured.

  He tried to bring up the court records, but he couldn’t retrieve them. Maybe Lieutenant Powers could help him on Monday. If Dan decided to let him know he was looking at this. Powers was sure to be curious.

  He searched for a local newspaper site and accessed its archives. The profuse details astounded him—everything from Bob’s golf handicap to the brand of shoes Laurel purchased the morning of the murder. He waded through the local hoopla and repetitive backstories in each article for the vital information he needed.

  The initial murder investigation had lasted a few weeks, leading to Laurel’s arrest and detention at the county jail. His heart ached, just thinking about it. The trial preparations dragged on for nearly a year and a half. At last the trial began in superior court in Augusta, the state’s capital.

  The prosecution had tried hard to prove its case. Robert Hatcher’s mother testified against her daughter-in-law, claiming the young couple fought shortly before the murder. A friend of the victim’s testified that Laurel excelled at marksmanship. He and Bob hunted together every year, and Laurel had gone along the last two years. They’d held shooting contests for fun, and Laurel knew what to do with a handgun. The friend even saw her shoot the murder weapon for sport, with deadly accuracy.

  Her spotty alibi damaged the defense’s case. Laurel had done her shopping in Bangor, an hour from her home in Oakland, and stopped on the way home at a picnic area. She claimed she spent at least a half hour strolling through the woods, looking for early wildflowers. Dan thought immediately of the many plants depicted in her sketchbook.

  But no one could place her car at the picnic area. No one had seen her drive into the garage when she arrived home. She had dated receipts from three Bangor stores, but all the times imprinted on them were early in the day. That missing half hour at the picnic area cast enough doubt. That and the fingerprint on the gun …

  It ended in a hung jury. Dan’s anger flared as he read. Circumstantial evidence, and not much of it, leaving all kinds of room for doubt. You could drive a semi through it. But two of the jurors had held out for a conviction. The deliberations went on for three days, until the judge finally dismissed the jury. He declared a mistrial, but no new trial was set. Instead of sending her back to jail, the court had released her on bond. The judge allowed her to move out of state, provided she waived extradition and kept them informed of her whereabouts. She was free, for now. But when they set the date for a new trial, she would be right back in the courtroom.

  Dan sat for a long time, staring at the screen. The screen darkened as the computer went into sleep mode, and he turned it off.

  As soon as the blank monito
r faced him, he wished he’d printed it all out so he could go over it at home. He wanted to comb through the reports relentlessly until he found something that would exonerate Laurel.

  But if such evidence existed, he wouldn’t find it there.

  It was nearly time for him to report to his security job. He went home and put on the gray uniform. As he drove toward the hospital, his thoughts returned to Laurel. The police thought they had the murderer, and no one was looking for the real killer. She needed a defender, someone who would stand by her and keep her safe. Dan didn’t know if he could do that, but he wanted to try. However, despite the desire to be there for Laurel, an inner voice cautioned him.

  She’s a murder suspect. You know nothing about her. Criminals lie. They put on a charming front. They use people they think can help them.

  Thoughts of Ashleigh flitted through his mind—the way she’d charmed him. She’d managed to hide her darker side from him for weeks, until his heart was engaged. And when he learned her needs, he couldn’t meet them. She was too deep into drug abuse for him to help her, even if she’d wanted his help.

  He parked in the hospital employees’ lot and bowed his head for a moment. Dear God, I don’t want to go through that kind of pain again. Help me to keep things in perspective. I don’t want to be stupid and fall for a woman who has no respect for You. But Laurel ... she seems to believe in You. Make me wise. Give her a resolution to this murder case, Lord. I don’t want to meddle where I shouldn’t, but she needs help. Please, if You can use me in her life, I’m here. Just help me not to get emotionally involved if this isn’t right.

  *****

  Dan dressed carefully on Sunday in a dark gray suit and took a long time choosing the necktie. He tied it three times before it hung to his satisfaction. He hadn’t been this nervous since his six-month evaluation at the police station.

  He drove slowly around the city park in the center of town, watching his rearview mirror. When he was sure he wasn’t being followed, he headed for the highway and out of the city. After snatching only four hours of sleep, he was still tired but couldn’t stop thinking about Laurel’s predicament.

  He approached Owen’s house with anticipation. It would be his and Laurel’s first intentional meeting, and he was eager to see how she would greet him.